


Like a Firework (Brighter in the Dark)

by stormy_blue_skies



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV 2020)
Genre: F/F, HAROLD THEY'RE LESBIANS, acknowledged it, i believe in she/they flynn supremacy, i looked at canon, literally they are two stubborn lesbian disasters, then dumped it in a lake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:02:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29987412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormy_blue_skies/pseuds/stormy_blue_skies
Summary: Flynn has had a crush on Carrie since sixth grade, not that they'll admit it. She and Julie have made up with Carrie, and are restarting their tradition of going to the Wilson's New Years' party.And tonight, it isn't sparks flying, it's fireworks.
Relationships: Flynn/Carrie Wilson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11
Collections: Blue's JatP Drabbles





	Like a Firework (Brighter in the Dark)

**Author's Note:**

> so this was for a drabble prompt from an anon! literally just flarrie being lesbian disasters. hope you like it!
> 
> there is one (1) singular f-bomb, so i rated it G bc that's it, but be warned

Flynn loved new year’s. They were finally _expected_ to stay up late and drink way too much soda, wear blingy clothes for the hell of it, and blow things up without it being “an unorthodox activity for a teenager” and “reckless endangerment.” 

Every year since Flynn could remember, save the year they had their falling out with Carrie, she and Julie had gone to the Wilson’s new year’s parties. They’d recently made amends with her, though, and Flynn wouldn’t deny she was nervous for this year’s party. 

As she and Julie walked up to the open front door, the sound of pop music and the flashing of colorful lights hit them head on. The sunset across the lawn painted the sky with fiery streaks of pink and gold, casting them in a warm glow. She could already tell the sequins sewn into their golden dress were glittering. A sudden swell of confidence rushing through them, Flynn readjusted her distressed denim jacket, stepping through the doorway with Julie by their side. 

“Julie? Flynn?” A familiar voice appeared next to them, and Flynn would be lying if she said her heart didn’t flutter a little bit at the sight of Carrie Wilson, who was wearing a sparkly pink crop top and black leggings, with a scarlet leather jacket draped over her shoulder. Her hair was tied up into an elaborate knot, fastened with a small comb, and the faint blush she’d dusted over her cheeks made her look like she was wrapped in sunset. 

That was the main reason why Flynn was nervous. Since sixth grade, they’d been harboring some very annoying feelings for a certain Carrie Wilson. She wouldn’t admit it, of course; Julie had pestered her about it, and she’d always insisted that _no, I don’t have a crush on Carrie._ They would even try to convince themself that she didn’t, though that wasn’t happening. 

So, she stuck with pining endlessly. 

“Hi, Carrie,” Flynn finally said, cursing those bastards - ahem, butterflies - in their stomach. Carrie gave them a nervous smile. 

“I’m glad you could make it,” she said, wrapping Julie in a hug. She did the same to Flynn, who was internally panicking but somehow maintained her composure. 

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Julie promised, and Flynn nodded. She still held a _tiny_ grudge, but it was all but erased by then. Carrie gave them perfect smile, glancing at Flynn before leading them into the house.

Flynn grabbed a can of soda, letting the bubbles pop on their tongue as she stood on the deck, leaning on the smooth outer wall, tapping her foot to the music as they watched the sun retreat over the horizon, a few stars flickering into view. She glanced inside, seeing Julie dancing enthusiastically with Luke; ever since their performance at the Orpheum, and Julie setting them free, the ghosts had gained the ability to be both visible and physical when they chose to be, meaning they could touch and converse with lifers. 

Flynn smirked to herself, watching their lovestruck best friend twirl around him. 

“You okay?” asked Carrie from behind her. Flynn’s eyes darted to her. She was leaning on the railing of the porch about five feet away, her leather jacket zipped up rather than draped over her shoulder, Flynn nodded.

“Yeah, I’m great! You?”

“Me too,” Carrie said softly. Flynn caught her gaze, and her eyes were a spiraling mess of emotions; happiness, apprehension, pride, excitement, longing, and something else she couldn’t place. Flynn bit her lip and looked back at the sky, taking another sip of their soda. 

At some point, she and Carrie had ended up wandering their backyard and up to the hill behind the house, up a winding trail that had been beaten in from years of exploring the same areas. Flynn distinctly remembered building one of the little rock towers at the top when she was twelve. Their heart fluttered, realizing Carrie hadn’t taken it down. 

For hours, they talked about who knows what, fun memories from elementary school, awkward middle school stories, hopes for the future (both realistic and ambitious), and soon they were both out of breath from laughter, standing at the very top of the hill with a view of the entire house and further down to the beach and city. The lights glowed like stars, and Flynn almost tripped as she stared at them rather than watching where they were walking.

“Whoa-” she started, before realizing that Carrie had grabbed their hand and caught her.

“Sorry,” she finally said when she’d figured out how to speak. She cleared her throat nervously.

“It’s okay,” Carrie said with a small smile, not letting go of Flynn’s hand. Flynn stared at their clasped hands, before meeting Carrie’s eyes, their lips curling into a soft grin. Carrie lifted her arm and twirled her, and Flynn laughed.

“I don’t dance,” she said, ignoring the fact that they _had_ actually twirled.

“I know you can,” Carrie pressed. Flynn shook her head, but the flushed grin on their face probably didn’t make their case very convincing.

“Not a chance.” Carrie snorted, and if Flynn wasn’t already fucked, she most _definitely_ was now. The crinkle around her eyes as she laughed and the way her face lit up made Carrie look like an angel given human form, and Flynn couldn’t help staring. 

They hadn’t realized it, but she’d left behind her denials of dancing, and her hands made their way to Carrie’s waist, and Carrie’s to Flynn’s shoulders, clasping behind her neck. She smiled as they swayed to no music in particular; maybe the crashing waves barely audible from the beach, maybe the bass from the music back at her house, maybe their own heartbeats.

“I thought you didn’t dance,” Carrie teased. 

“Shut,” Flynn retorted, sure her face was on fire. But Carrie laughed again, and all of Flynn’s worries melted away (that, or she’d had too much soda, which was definitely a possibility). 

So, Flynn retaliated.

They smirked and reached up, gently unclipping the comb holding Carrie’s hair up, laughing when she let out an indignant gasp, even though it was backed by a smile. But then, because of course she did, Flynn lost any sort of coherency she might’ve had, because Carrie’s long, reddish hair was framing her face in soft waves, and she couldn’t help but gently tuck one part behind her ear. 

They weren’t sure if Carrie blushed; it was too dark to tell, even with the city lights behind them.

Flynn wasn’t sure how long they danced; she’d lost track of the swaying and however many times they’d twirled each other. But before they knew it, a loud _bang_ from a firework announced midnight, followed by sparkling light in all sorts of colors, fading into the pitch black sky. 

“Happy new year,” Carrie said quietly, her lips in a small smile. Flynn met her eyes, which seemed to glisten with hope. 

She wasn’t sure who made the first move, but soon they were stepping closer, eyes locked until she could feel the warmth of Carrie’s skin against hers.

It was Carrie who closed the gap. 

Flynn kissed back almost immediately, and then they knew what all those cliché romance books meant when they talked about sparks flying; though that might’ve been the fireworks casting them into a merged silhouette atop the hill.

Carrie’s lips tasted like strawberry chapstick; the same kind she’d used since they’d met in second grade. Flynn’s arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer, Carrie’s hands on her shoulders. 

The crackle of another firework sounded when the finally pulled apart for air, foreheads together.

“I’ve wanted to do that forever,” Carrie confessed, and Flynn’s heart soared.

“Dork,” they said affectionately, kissing her again. Carrie smiled into it, a giggle tickling Flynn’s cheek.

They took it back; it wasn’t sparks she’d felt with Carrie.

It was fireworks. 

**Author's Note:**

> i just think that they
> 
> harass me on tumblr at girlboss-molina!


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